Stayin' Dead
October 24
Trixie was dreaming. Some very distant part of her recognized this, but the dream held her trapped in this other world and other life, showing her things she should not - could not possibly know. She stood before a mirror, but the image reflected back at her was not her own. She wore a very plain, cream colored dress with a high collar and wide skirt. Her long blond curls were pulled back in a tight bun. The face was not hers, but she knew it. The woman in the mirror was Sarah Sligo. It was her wedding day, and she was crying. This was not the sobbing of someone emotionally distraught, nor was it the charming display of a bride overcome with joy. The tears that silently fell rolled down the pale, cold cheeks of a broken-hearted woman who no longer held any hope for her future.
Her hand drifted to her still-flat abdomen. The pregnancy did not yet show. It would though, soon enough. In less than eight months’ time, Sarah would present the world with her first-born child. A son. Of this she was certain. And Luke would claim him. Declare him his heir. He would never countenance society knowing that his wife bore the son of another man. Only a handful of people would ever know the truth of this boy’s heritage. No matter what the birth record stated, her child was a Mundy. It was a secret she vowed to take to her grave, for his sake. She knew only too well the danger he faced. John Mundy had lost his life for it. Sarah would do everything she could to ensure their son did not as well.
There was a knock at the door. A gruff voice informed her that it was time. She used a kerchief to wipe her eyes and picked up the tied bundle of lavender she’d prepared for the ceremony. Four people waited for her in the library. Her husband-to-be, the preacher, and the two servants to serve as proper witnesses.
No. There were five people. In the dream, Trixie still saw through Sarah’s eyes, but suddenly the room shifted and changed. Part was clean and bright and lit with many candles and part was old, shadowed and decayed. Two very different time periods clashed, each seeking dominance over the other. Luke Sligo frowned severely at her and beckoned her forward.
And behind him, slumped on the floor like a forgotten rag doll, lay Professor David Lee.
Help him.
She didn’t know where the voice came from. It was there, in her head, but it was not her own.
Wake up. Help him.
The wedding vision vanished entirely. Trixie was standing in the gloomy darkness of Lisgard House. Professor Lee was there, injured and unconscious.
You must help him.
Trixie woke up.
For a long moment, she felt frozen in place as she struggled to make sense of her disjointed, jumbled thoughts. She stared up at her ceiling, partially illuminated by the moonlight that streamed through her window, reminding herself that she was home, in her own bed. That she was, as she had always been, Trixie.
Help him.
It was an echo. A remnant. A whisper in her mind. But she knew, she was absolutely certain, that she needed to heed it. She pushed herself up and grabbed her cell phone from her bedside table. Her alarm clock glowed blue-green numbers that informed her it was only a little past midnight. He was probably asleep, but it was possible he was still up.
The grogginess of his voice told her she’d disturbed his slumber. “Freckles?” he mumbled with an audible yawn. “You okay?”
“I know this is going to sound nuts,” she said apologetically, “but can you get over to Lisgard House?”
“Now? Can it wait ‘til morning?”
“It can’t wait. It’s the professor. He’s there and he’s hurt. Bad. Can you go?”
“Uh… yeah. But what? Hurt how? What’s going on, Trix? Where are you?”
“I’m at home. I don’t know exactly how he was hurt or what happened to him or why he was even at the house tonight. I just know he’s there and he needs help. I - I saw it in a dream, but I know it’s real. I’m sure of it. Can you go to him? I can call for an ambulance, but I think someone should be there with him.”
“Okay. Um, yeah. I need a coupla minutes to throw on some clothes, but I’ll go.”
Trixie exhaled slowly. “Good. I’ll call emergency services. Please call me back as soon as you can and tell me how he is, okay?”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything.”
“Thanks. And Dan?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful. All right? Just… be careful.”
“I will, Freckles. Promise.”
She bit down on her lip, wanting to say more but not sure of her words.
“Try to get some rest, Trix,” he said gently after a small pause. “This may take a while.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Trixie. Mart.” Professor Lee blinked somewhat dazedly at them as they stepped into his hospital room. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”
Trixie snorted softly as she crossed to his bedside. “Spoken like a true teacher. We told the office that our cousin was injured in an accident. If I’d been the only one saying it, they probably woulda called our folks to confirm it, but since my honor roll geek of a brother was there, too, they didn’t even question it. Gave us a pass to miss first and second periods, with the possibility to extend that through lunch or even the rest of the day if you were ‘critical.’ For the record? You are now a second cousin on our mother’s side of the family.” She sat down in the room’s only chair and studied him intently. “You want to tell us what happened? Dan says you were… not completely coherent when he spoke to you last sometime in the wee hours of the night.”
“Ah. Yes. Well. That’s a bit of a story. You see, I-“
“Oh, hello!”
Trixie and Mart both turned to see a plump, kindly looking elderly woman enter the room, carrying a small overnight bag. Trixie stood quickly and moved to stand next to her brother.
“I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t realize you had visitors.”
“It’s all right, Grams. These are… uh, some friends of mine.”
“Oh, well, that’s nice.” She smiled approvingly at them. “How nice of you to come see David. Are you Haversham students?”
“Um, no, ma’am,” Trixie replied slowly, not sure exactly how much the professor wanted his grandmother to know. “We’re still in high school. But the professor’s been tutoring us.” She inwardly winced but figured that it wasn’t a complete falsehood. He was in some ways serving as their tutor as they worked to understand and learn more about their heritage and abilities.
“Oh, um, Grams, this is Trixie and Mart. And uh, Trixie, Mart, this is my grandmother, Adelaide Lee.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Lee,” Mart said politely as she hefted the case and set it on the table at the foot of the professor’s bed.
“Oh, goodness. Feel free to call me ‘Grams,’” she said with a small laugh. “Everyone does, even the young man who always bags my groceries.”
The professor cracked a small smile. “This is true,” he told them. “Our mailman has always said you could send a letter to Sleepy Hollow with nothing more than ‘Grams’ for an address and it would reach her without delay.”
She patted his arm fondly and nodded toward the suitcase. “I’ve brought your toiletries and the change of clothes you asked for. David, dear, I can’t for the life of me understand how you managed to fall and hit your head in some old house, or even imagine what you were doing there in the middle of the night in the first place, but we’ll have time to discuss it later. I’m afraid I haven’t been able to reach your mother, but I’ll try again in a few hours. It’s still quite early out on the west coast. For now, I’m going to run down to the cafeteria and have a bite for breakfast while you visit with your friends.”
“Wow,” Trixie said with a grin after Grams let herself out the door. “You didn’t tell us you’re the grandson of Mr. and Mrs. Claus. How’s Santa doing these days?”
“Yes,” the professor agreed, chuckling quietly. “Grams takes ‘sweet little old lady’ to almost fairy tale heights, doesn’t she?”
“Yep. So, back to where we left off. What happened, Professor?”
“I’m afraid I don’t entirely know. I can’t seem to remember.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trixie frowned as she slammed her locker shut and read the message on her phone screen. “Dan’s just texted me. He says he has an errand to run for Regan, but he’ll meet us at the historical society building as soon as he can.”
“Crap. Okay,” Mart said. “We can walk over there. I was just hoping to avoid it because it looks like it we’re in for a storm.”
“Well, hang on. Let me see if I can borrow Honey’s car. She’ll be staying here for cheerleading practice and then taking the bus over to Briarcliff for the game.”
Trixie typed a quick text to her friend. The answer came back about half a minute later.
In the gym. Can U come here for keys?
Be right there thanks
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Professor? It’s Dan. We have a bit of a problem.”
David rolled to his side and reached for his glasses. “What’s happened? Are you hurt? Injured? I’m not supposed to leave the hospital until tomorrow morning, but I can disregard that and-“
“No! No. You stay where you are, Professor. I’m fine. I don’t know what attacked you last night and didn’t want you near the trunk, but whatever it was, it doesn’t seem to have a problem with me moving it. I just can’t get it out the door.”
David blinked, his brow furrowed. “It won’t fit through the door?” he asked. “Not even turned sideways?”
“No. That’s not what I mean. I can’t get it out the door. It’s like… it’s like there’s this invisible wall it won’t pass through.”
“The house won’t let you take the trunk? Interesting.”
“The house… or something in the house. What should I do?”
David huffed out a breath, thinking hard. “Hide it for now, I suppose. Somewhere you think Trixie won’t find it. We may have to let Mart in on our secret, too, to be certain. I know you aren’t happy about lying to her, and frankly, neither am I, but I believe we have proof now that it is quite dangerous, and I’m afraid she’ll get it into her head to investigate it further.”
“Hey,” Dan said mildly, “I appreciate that you’re trying to protect her, even if it does mean we’re keeping something from her. I don’t want her following your example.”
“Ah. Yes. Neither do I.”
“Damn. I guess the best idea would be to take it back upstairs and hide it somewhere up there. It took both me and Mart to bring it down. I am not looking forward to lugging it back up on my own.”
“I can still come-“
“Uh. No. Seems you already pissed off something here. Sarah or somebody else who hasn’t yet made an actual appearance. You’re pretty much the last person we want trying to move this thing now. Don’t worry, Professor. I’ll think of something. It’ll be hidden safely away before Trixie sets foot back on the property.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Oh, look. It’s Captain Crunch.”
“Ha. Been looking for you kids. You aren’t all that easy to track down.”
“Except most days when we’re holding office hours at the Lisgard estate,” Trixie pointed out. “And you can find us there on Monday, when we’ll be available to help you solve your dire problem and catch the next train to the afterlife. Right now? We’re on our way in here because we have some reading we want to do.”
“It’s the historical society. Ain’t nothin’ in there that’s going anywhere any time soon. And I need your help.”
“You’re dead. And you’re stayin’ dead. You aren’t going anywhere any time soon. You can come see us on Monday.”
“Kid, please. Do you think I’d be asking right now if it could wait ‘til Monday?”
“Yeah. I do, actually. It’s surprising how ‘urgent’ so many dead people think their problems are.”
“Trix,” Mart cut in evenly. “At least let’s hear him out.”
“Thank you,” Davie said with a sharp nod. “I gotta dead guy I need you to get rid of. He’s at my club.”
“Your… club?”
“Yeah. It’s a bar. A place for like-minded souls to hang out. Maybe put on a performance.”
Trixie’s brows shot up. “A performance? Like?”
“You know, Spunky. A comedy skit. Maybe sing a song or two. Just ‘cause I’m dead doesn’t mean I gave up my love for the biz.”
“Your love of running a club?”
“Show biz, sweetheart.”
“You have a bar. For the dead. Do you even serve drinks? I didn’t think you could drink.”
“Nah. The only spirits at my place are the spooky kind.”
“And you have someone causing you trouble and you want us to get rid of him.”
“That’s right. He is bad for business.”
“How can he be bad for business? Is there some kinda dead people currency you exchange?”
“It ain’t like that. He’s bad for business ‘cause several of my customers don’t wanna come around while he’s there. You get rid of him, and they’ll be back.”
Trixie looked over at her brother. “What do you think?”
“I guess we should go check it out,” he replied with a small shrug.
“Fine. Where’s your club-slash-bar, Captain?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From the outside, the building appeared to be abandoned. As Trixie pulled Honey’s car up to the side of the old warehouse and parked, she realized that it most likely was. “You’ll have to see if you can get in through that door,” Davie told them. “It might be unlocked. Otherwise, you can climb up to that window.”
“Lovely,” Trixie muttered through clenched teeth as she slid out from behind the steering wheel.
Fortunately, while the door wasn’t unlocked, it swung inward with a swift kick from Mart’s booted foot. “Hey! Show some respect for a guy’s property!” Davie exclaimed.
“Yeah. That window thing? Was never gonna happen,” Trixie told him. “Sorry.”
“Even if you did own this building before you died, it belongs to someone else now,” Mart added.
There were several ghosts in the warehouse’s large open space, sitting around a collection of mismatched old tables. Their gazes as they watched Trixie and Mart enter were not all friendly.
“Be cool!” Davie called loudly. “They’re part of The Three. They’re here to help with our little problem. Marv! You keep singing, my friend. Gotta let those feelings out.”
The middle-aged man standing in front of the closed bay doors bobbed his head in a quick nod and smiled. “Thanks, D.” He cleared his throat loudly and launched back in to his song.
No, I can't forget tomorrow
When I think of all my sorrow
When I had you there
But then I let you go
And now it's only fair
That I should let you know
What you should know
I can't live
If living is without you
I can't live
I can't give anymore
I can't live
If living is without you
I can't give
I can't give anymore
Trixie’s jaw fell open as she watched and listened to the man belt out the lyrics with ear-shattering, grossly out-of-tune gusto. “Captain? Maybe this is not the guy you want to encourage for… uh, this kind of performance? Also? Does he not know he’s dead?”
“Eh. He knows, Spunky. He sings that song every night. It’s his favorite. C’mon. Let’s go deal with Johnny.”
“Yeah. Which one of these folks is your problem child?” Mart asked, surveying the assembled spirits.
“No. Not them. They’re my regulars. Johnny’s over here.”
They followed Davie across the dusty, litter-strewn room to the far back corner. A collection of old boxes and trash was piled up haphazardly and Trixie grimaced as a large rat squeaked at their approach and darted off into the shadows.
“Here’s….Johnny!” Davie announced with a dramatic wave.
“Oh. My. God,” Trixie breathed. “It’s a dead guy.”
“Yeah? You kids see lots of dead guys, right?”
“Ghosts! We deal with ghosts! Not bodies! You didn’t say you had some dead homeless body!”
“Well, yeah. I thought you understood.”
“No! No, we did not understand! You said you needed us to get rid of a dead guy! We thought you meant send some spirit on his way.”
“No. I meant exactly what I said. I need you to get rid of a dead guy. I need him out of here. Like I told you, he’s bad for business. Who wants to enjoy the comedy stylings of Jake the Hatchet, former Mafia hitman and current star of the Dead on Arrival but I’m Still Laughing Tour when we got this stiff lying around, bringing in all kinds of rodents and hungry critters?”
“Davie, we cannot get rid of a body,” Mart said, struggling to remain calm. “We can call in an anonymous tip to the police…”
“No! Don’t you even think about it, kid! You call the police and they come in here and suddenly there’s cops and investigators and the ME and EMTs all over the place? No. You do that? And I promise you you’ll have really serious problems on your hands. I already got some customers who ain’t that happy to see living people in their space. You bring in the cops and who knows what’ll happen.”
Mart rubbed his hand over his face. “I can’t believe this is. You want us to get rid of a body.”
“Yeah. And it’s not even a Suck Day,” Trixie mumbled. “So what do we do?”
“What can we do? We can’t get rid of him.”
“No,” she agreed with a slight shudder. “But I guess we could… move him. Uh, leave him somewhere and then make that anonymous call?”
“Are you joking? Are you nuts?”
“No. And probably. But can you think of a better solution?”
“Sounds like a good one to me,” Davie put in. “Not that anyone’s askin’.”
“You are actually suggesting we move a body.”
“Mart, think about it. Option number one. We do absolutely nothing. We don’t move him and we don’t call it in. We just leave this poor guy here to rot and hope someone someday finds him and sees that whatever remains of him gets a decent burial. Option number two. We leave him here, but we call the police and then deal with some ghost known as Jake the Hatchet going all poltergeist on us. Option number three. We move him.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“There’s no way else we can turn him!” Mart hollered, shouting to be heard over the pouring rain. “We’re not gonna be able to close the trunk! Maybe we should call Dan! See if he can meet us here with his van!”
Trixie pushed her wet bangs off her forehead. “We don’t have to take him very far! We could leave the trunk propped open and secure it with a tie. I don’t want to wait around with a dead body until Dan can get here, and I don’t think Davie and his band of Merry Men are gonna let us drag Johnny back inside.”
It was Mart who found a length of old rope beneath a rotted wooden pallet. He pushed the trunk lid down as far as he could, then waited as Trixie tied a tight knot to hold it.
“See,” she said loudly. “It’s like when, you know, you transport a bicycle or something.”
“Except it’s a dead body! If anyone sees us, they’re gonna call the cops!”
Trixie frowned slightly. “Yeah. Having his legs stick out like this is a problem. Can we find something to cover them with?”
After several aborted attempts, they were able to use a discarded cardboard box to disguise the trunk’s contents enough that it was unlikely a passerby would guess the nature of their haul.
“We are going to have to do some major cleaning before we return this vehicle to its rightful owner,” Mart pointed out grimly as he strapped himself into his seat.
Trixie cringed and nodded. “Yeah. And I think it would probably be a good idea to never let Honey know we used her car to act out a scene from Weekend at Bernie’s 4, Fun with a Homeless Guy. Next time you say anything about hearing a ghost out when he wants help? I’m probably gonna run the other way.”
For a long moment, they sat in silence. Trixie made no move to turn the key in the ignition and they simply watched as the heavy rain splattered against the windshield.
Finally, Mart spoke. “I have this horrible urge to laugh,” he admitted. “I know it’s really not funny. And I’m sure I’m probably bordering on hysterical, but…”
Trixie drew in a shaky breath. “Holy. Holy. Crap,” she said, holding her head with both of her hands. “Bro, we just shoved a dead guy into the trunk of Honey’s car. It is so not funny.” Her lips twitched as she spoke, and she fought hard against a smile. “Oh, my God! It’s not funny!”
“Nope. Not funny.”
They exchanged a look and it was too much. In moments, they were shrieking with uncontrollable laughter, thankful no one else was around to see.
Trixie was dreaming. Some very distant part of her recognized this, but the dream held her trapped in this other world and other life, showing her things she should not - could not possibly know. She stood before a mirror, but the image reflected back at her was not her own. She wore a very plain, cream colored dress with a high collar and wide skirt. Her long blond curls were pulled back in a tight bun. The face was not hers, but she knew it. The woman in the mirror was Sarah Sligo. It was her wedding day, and she was crying. This was not the sobbing of someone emotionally distraught, nor was it the charming display of a bride overcome with joy. The tears that silently fell rolled down the pale, cold cheeks of a broken-hearted woman who no longer held any hope for her future.
Her hand drifted to her still-flat abdomen. The pregnancy did not yet show. It would though, soon enough. In less than eight months’ time, Sarah would present the world with her first-born child. A son. Of this she was certain. And Luke would claim him. Declare him his heir. He would never countenance society knowing that his wife bore the son of another man. Only a handful of people would ever know the truth of this boy’s heritage. No matter what the birth record stated, her child was a Mundy. It was a secret she vowed to take to her grave, for his sake. She knew only too well the danger he faced. John Mundy had lost his life for it. Sarah would do everything she could to ensure their son did not as well.
There was a knock at the door. A gruff voice informed her that it was time. She used a kerchief to wipe her eyes and picked up the tied bundle of lavender she’d prepared for the ceremony. Four people waited for her in the library. Her husband-to-be, the preacher, and the two servants to serve as proper witnesses.
No. There were five people. In the dream, Trixie still saw through Sarah’s eyes, but suddenly the room shifted and changed. Part was clean and bright and lit with many candles and part was old, shadowed and decayed. Two very different time periods clashed, each seeking dominance over the other. Luke Sligo frowned severely at her and beckoned her forward.
And behind him, slumped on the floor like a forgotten rag doll, lay Professor David Lee.
Help him.
She didn’t know where the voice came from. It was there, in her head, but it was not her own.
Wake up. Help him.
The wedding vision vanished entirely. Trixie was standing in the gloomy darkness of Lisgard House. Professor Lee was there, injured and unconscious.
You must help him.
Trixie woke up.
For a long moment, she felt frozen in place as she struggled to make sense of her disjointed, jumbled thoughts. She stared up at her ceiling, partially illuminated by the moonlight that streamed through her window, reminding herself that she was home, in her own bed. That she was, as she had always been, Trixie.
Help him.
It was an echo. A remnant. A whisper in her mind. But she knew, she was absolutely certain, that she needed to heed it. She pushed herself up and grabbed her cell phone from her bedside table. Her alarm clock glowed blue-green numbers that informed her it was only a little past midnight. He was probably asleep, but it was possible he was still up.
The grogginess of his voice told her she’d disturbed his slumber. “Freckles?” he mumbled with an audible yawn. “You okay?”
“I know this is going to sound nuts,” she said apologetically, “but can you get over to Lisgard House?”
“Now? Can it wait ‘til morning?”
“It can’t wait. It’s the professor. He’s there and he’s hurt. Bad. Can you go?”
“Uh… yeah. But what? Hurt how? What’s going on, Trix? Where are you?”
“I’m at home. I don’t know exactly how he was hurt or what happened to him or why he was even at the house tonight. I just know he’s there and he needs help. I - I saw it in a dream, but I know it’s real. I’m sure of it. Can you go to him? I can call for an ambulance, but I think someone should be there with him.”
“Okay. Um, yeah. I need a coupla minutes to throw on some clothes, but I’ll go.”
Trixie exhaled slowly. “Good. I’ll call emergency services. Please call me back as soon as you can and tell me how he is, okay?”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything.”
“Thanks. And Dan?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful. All right? Just… be careful.”
“I will, Freckles. Promise.”
She bit down on her lip, wanting to say more but not sure of her words.
“Try to get some rest, Trix,” he said gently after a small pause. “This may take a while.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Trixie. Mart.” Professor Lee blinked somewhat dazedly at them as they stepped into his hospital room. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”
Trixie snorted softly as she crossed to his bedside. “Spoken like a true teacher. We told the office that our cousin was injured in an accident. If I’d been the only one saying it, they probably woulda called our folks to confirm it, but since my honor roll geek of a brother was there, too, they didn’t even question it. Gave us a pass to miss first and second periods, with the possibility to extend that through lunch or even the rest of the day if you were ‘critical.’ For the record? You are now a second cousin on our mother’s side of the family.” She sat down in the room’s only chair and studied him intently. “You want to tell us what happened? Dan says you were… not completely coherent when he spoke to you last sometime in the wee hours of the night.”
“Ah. Yes. Well. That’s a bit of a story. You see, I-“
“Oh, hello!”
Trixie and Mart both turned to see a plump, kindly looking elderly woman enter the room, carrying a small overnight bag. Trixie stood quickly and moved to stand next to her brother.
“I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t realize you had visitors.”
“It’s all right, Grams. These are… uh, some friends of mine.”
“Oh, well, that’s nice.” She smiled approvingly at them. “How nice of you to come see David. Are you Haversham students?”
“Um, no, ma’am,” Trixie replied slowly, not sure exactly how much the professor wanted his grandmother to know. “We’re still in high school. But the professor’s been tutoring us.” She inwardly winced but figured that it wasn’t a complete falsehood. He was in some ways serving as their tutor as they worked to understand and learn more about their heritage and abilities.
“Oh, um, Grams, this is Trixie and Mart. And uh, Trixie, Mart, this is my grandmother, Adelaide Lee.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Lee,” Mart said politely as she hefted the case and set it on the table at the foot of the professor’s bed.
“Oh, goodness. Feel free to call me ‘Grams,’” she said with a small laugh. “Everyone does, even the young man who always bags my groceries.”
The professor cracked a small smile. “This is true,” he told them. “Our mailman has always said you could send a letter to Sleepy Hollow with nothing more than ‘Grams’ for an address and it would reach her without delay.”
She patted his arm fondly and nodded toward the suitcase. “I’ve brought your toiletries and the change of clothes you asked for. David, dear, I can’t for the life of me understand how you managed to fall and hit your head in some old house, or even imagine what you were doing there in the middle of the night in the first place, but we’ll have time to discuss it later. I’m afraid I haven’t been able to reach your mother, but I’ll try again in a few hours. It’s still quite early out on the west coast. For now, I’m going to run down to the cafeteria and have a bite for breakfast while you visit with your friends.”
“Wow,” Trixie said with a grin after Grams let herself out the door. “You didn’t tell us you’re the grandson of Mr. and Mrs. Claus. How’s Santa doing these days?”
“Yes,” the professor agreed, chuckling quietly. “Grams takes ‘sweet little old lady’ to almost fairy tale heights, doesn’t she?”
“Yep. So, back to where we left off. What happened, Professor?”
“I’m afraid I don’t entirely know. I can’t seem to remember.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trixie frowned as she slammed her locker shut and read the message on her phone screen. “Dan’s just texted me. He says he has an errand to run for Regan, but he’ll meet us at the historical society building as soon as he can.”
“Crap. Okay,” Mart said. “We can walk over there. I was just hoping to avoid it because it looks like it we’re in for a storm.”
“Well, hang on. Let me see if I can borrow Honey’s car. She’ll be staying here for cheerleading practice and then taking the bus over to Briarcliff for the game.”
Trixie typed a quick text to her friend. The answer came back about half a minute later.
In the gym. Can U come here for keys?
Be right there thanks
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Professor? It’s Dan. We have a bit of a problem.”
David rolled to his side and reached for his glasses. “What’s happened? Are you hurt? Injured? I’m not supposed to leave the hospital until tomorrow morning, but I can disregard that and-“
“No! No. You stay where you are, Professor. I’m fine. I don’t know what attacked you last night and didn’t want you near the trunk, but whatever it was, it doesn’t seem to have a problem with me moving it. I just can’t get it out the door.”
David blinked, his brow furrowed. “It won’t fit through the door?” he asked. “Not even turned sideways?”
“No. That’s not what I mean. I can’t get it out the door. It’s like… it’s like there’s this invisible wall it won’t pass through.”
“The house won’t let you take the trunk? Interesting.”
“The house… or something in the house. What should I do?”
David huffed out a breath, thinking hard. “Hide it for now, I suppose. Somewhere you think Trixie won’t find it. We may have to let Mart in on our secret, too, to be certain. I know you aren’t happy about lying to her, and frankly, neither am I, but I believe we have proof now that it is quite dangerous, and I’m afraid she’ll get it into her head to investigate it further.”
“Hey,” Dan said mildly, “I appreciate that you’re trying to protect her, even if it does mean we’re keeping something from her. I don’t want her following your example.”
“Ah. Yes. Neither do I.”
“Damn. I guess the best idea would be to take it back upstairs and hide it somewhere up there. It took both me and Mart to bring it down. I am not looking forward to lugging it back up on my own.”
“I can still come-“
“Uh. No. Seems you already pissed off something here. Sarah or somebody else who hasn’t yet made an actual appearance. You’re pretty much the last person we want trying to move this thing now. Don’t worry, Professor. I’ll think of something. It’ll be hidden safely away before Trixie sets foot back on the property.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Oh, look. It’s Captain Crunch.”
“Ha. Been looking for you kids. You aren’t all that easy to track down.”
“Except most days when we’re holding office hours at the Lisgard estate,” Trixie pointed out. “And you can find us there on Monday, when we’ll be available to help you solve your dire problem and catch the next train to the afterlife. Right now? We’re on our way in here because we have some reading we want to do.”
“It’s the historical society. Ain’t nothin’ in there that’s going anywhere any time soon. And I need your help.”
“You’re dead. And you’re stayin’ dead. You aren’t going anywhere any time soon. You can come see us on Monday.”
“Kid, please. Do you think I’d be asking right now if it could wait ‘til Monday?”
“Yeah. I do, actually. It’s surprising how ‘urgent’ so many dead people think their problems are.”
“Trix,” Mart cut in evenly. “At least let’s hear him out.”
“Thank you,” Davie said with a sharp nod. “I gotta dead guy I need you to get rid of. He’s at my club.”
“Your… club?”
“Yeah. It’s a bar. A place for like-minded souls to hang out. Maybe put on a performance.”
Trixie’s brows shot up. “A performance? Like?”
“You know, Spunky. A comedy skit. Maybe sing a song or two. Just ‘cause I’m dead doesn’t mean I gave up my love for the biz.”
“Your love of running a club?”
“Show biz, sweetheart.”
“You have a bar. For the dead. Do you even serve drinks? I didn’t think you could drink.”
“Nah. The only spirits at my place are the spooky kind.”
“And you have someone causing you trouble and you want us to get rid of him.”
“That’s right. He is bad for business.”
“How can he be bad for business? Is there some kinda dead people currency you exchange?”
“It ain’t like that. He’s bad for business ‘cause several of my customers don’t wanna come around while he’s there. You get rid of him, and they’ll be back.”
Trixie looked over at her brother. “What do you think?”
“I guess we should go check it out,” he replied with a small shrug.
“Fine. Where’s your club-slash-bar, Captain?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From the outside, the building appeared to be abandoned. As Trixie pulled Honey’s car up to the side of the old warehouse and parked, she realized that it most likely was. “You’ll have to see if you can get in through that door,” Davie told them. “It might be unlocked. Otherwise, you can climb up to that window.”
“Lovely,” Trixie muttered through clenched teeth as she slid out from behind the steering wheel.
Fortunately, while the door wasn’t unlocked, it swung inward with a swift kick from Mart’s booted foot. “Hey! Show some respect for a guy’s property!” Davie exclaimed.
“Yeah. That window thing? Was never gonna happen,” Trixie told him. “Sorry.”
“Even if you did own this building before you died, it belongs to someone else now,” Mart added.
There were several ghosts in the warehouse’s large open space, sitting around a collection of mismatched old tables. Their gazes as they watched Trixie and Mart enter were not all friendly.
“Be cool!” Davie called loudly. “They’re part of The Three. They’re here to help with our little problem. Marv! You keep singing, my friend. Gotta let those feelings out.”
The middle-aged man standing in front of the closed bay doors bobbed his head in a quick nod and smiled. “Thanks, D.” He cleared his throat loudly and launched back in to his song.
No, I can't forget tomorrow
When I think of all my sorrow
When I had you there
But then I let you go
And now it's only fair
That I should let you know
What you should know
I can't live
If living is without you
I can't live
I can't give anymore
I can't live
If living is without you
I can't give
I can't give anymore
Trixie’s jaw fell open as she watched and listened to the man belt out the lyrics with ear-shattering, grossly out-of-tune gusto. “Captain? Maybe this is not the guy you want to encourage for… uh, this kind of performance? Also? Does he not know he’s dead?”
“Eh. He knows, Spunky. He sings that song every night. It’s his favorite. C’mon. Let’s go deal with Johnny.”
“Yeah. Which one of these folks is your problem child?” Mart asked, surveying the assembled spirits.
“No. Not them. They’re my regulars. Johnny’s over here.”
They followed Davie across the dusty, litter-strewn room to the far back corner. A collection of old boxes and trash was piled up haphazardly and Trixie grimaced as a large rat squeaked at their approach and darted off into the shadows.
“Here’s….Johnny!” Davie announced with a dramatic wave.
“Oh. My. God,” Trixie breathed. “It’s a dead guy.”
“Yeah? You kids see lots of dead guys, right?”
“Ghosts! We deal with ghosts! Not bodies! You didn’t say you had some dead homeless body!”
“Well, yeah. I thought you understood.”
“No! No, we did not understand! You said you needed us to get rid of a dead guy! We thought you meant send some spirit on his way.”
“No. I meant exactly what I said. I need you to get rid of a dead guy. I need him out of here. Like I told you, he’s bad for business. Who wants to enjoy the comedy stylings of Jake the Hatchet, former Mafia hitman and current star of the Dead on Arrival but I’m Still Laughing Tour when we got this stiff lying around, bringing in all kinds of rodents and hungry critters?”
“Davie, we cannot get rid of a body,” Mart said, struggling to remain calm. “We can call in an anonymous tip to the police…”
“No! Don’t you even think about it, kid! You call the police and they come in here and suddenly there’s cops and investigators and the ME and EMTs all over the place? No. You do that? And I promise you you’ll have really serious problems on your hands. I already got some customers who ain’t that happy to see living people in their space. You bring in the cops and who knows what’ll happen.”
Mart rubbed his hand over his face. “I can’t believe this is. You want us to get rid of a body.”
“Yeah. And it’s not even a Suck Day,” Trixie mumbled. “So what do we do?”
“What can we do? We can’t get rid of him.”
“No,” she agreed with a slight shudder. “But I guess we could… move him. Uh, leave him somewhere and then make that anonymous call?”
“Are you joking? Are you nuts?”
“No. And probably. But can you think of a better solution?”
“Sounds like a good one to me,” Davie put in. “Not that anyone’s askin’.”
“You are actually suggesting we move a body.”
“Mart, think about it. Option number one. We do absolutely nothing. We don’t move him and we don’t call it in. We just leave this poor guy here to rot and hope someone someday finds him and sees that whatever remains of him gets a decent burial. Option number two. We leave him here, but we call the police and then deal with some ghost known as Jake the Hatchet going all poltergeist on us. Option number three. We move him.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“There’s no way else we can turn him!” Mart hollered, shouting to be heard over the pouring rain. “We’re not gonna be able to close the trunk! Maybe we should call Dan! See if he can meet us here with his van!”
Trixie pushed her wet bangs off her forehead. “We don’t have to take him very far! We could leave the trunk propped open and secure it with a tie. I don’t want to wait around with a dead body until Dan can get here, and I don’t think Davie and his band of Merry Men are gonna let us drag Johnny back inside.”
It was Mart who found a length of old rope beneath a rotted wooden pallet. He pushed the trunk lid down as far as he could, then waited as Trixie tied a tight knot to hold it.
“See,” she said loudly. “It’s like when, you know, you transport a bicycle or something.”
“Except it’s a dead body! If anyone sees us, they’re gonna call the cops!”
Trixie frowned slightly. “Yeah. Having his legs stick out like this is a problem. Can we find something to cover them with?”
After several aborted attempts, they were able to use a discarded cardboard box to disguise the trunk’s contents enough that it was unlikely a passerby would guess the nature of their haul.
“We are going to have to do some major cleaning before we return this vehicle to its rightful owner,” Mart pointed out grimly as he strapped himself into his seat.
Trixie cringed and nodded. “Yeah. And I think it would probably be a good idea to never let Honey know we used her car to act out a scene from Weekend at Bernie’s 4, Fun with a Homeless Guy. Next time you say anything about hearing a ghost out when he wants help? I’m probably gonna run the other way.”
For a long moment, they sat in silence. Trixie made no move to turn the key in the ignition and they simply watched as the heavy rain splattered against the windshield.
Finally, Mart spoke. “I have this horrible urge to laugh,” he admitted. “I know it’s really not funny. And I’m sure I’m probably bordering on hysterical, but…”
Trixie drew in a shaky breath. “Holy. Holy. Crap,” she said, holding her head with both of her hands. “Bro, we just shoved a dead guy into the trunk of Honey’s car. It is so not funny.” Her lips twitched as she spoke, and she fought hard against a smile. “Oh, my God! It’s not funny!”
“Nope. Not funny.”
They exchanged a look and it was too much. In moments, they were shrieking with uncontrollable laughter, thankful no one else was around to see.